“Then ask whoever placed you there.”
“I thought maybe you knew.”
“Why would I know?”
The answer hurt more than I expected. I looked down at the grass for a second, trying to gather myself before the expression on my face became embarrassing.
Because you’re my fiancé, I wanted to say. I thought, after the car, maybe we were better.
“The dress came in a Crow box.” Heat touched my face. “It was from Weston.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
His gaze sharpened. “Is there a problem?”
“I don’t know. I thought maybe—” My throat tightened. “I thought perhaps it was sent because of you.”
“Because of me,” he repeated.
I hated how stupid I sounded. I had come over here with a heart full of questions and all of them suddenly seemed too small to survive his attention.
“You sent the last dresses through Crow styling,” I said quietly.
“That doesn’t mean every dress with a Crow crest is from me.”
“I know. I just…” I drew in a breath, trying again. “I don’t understand why Weston sent one. Or why I’m sitting with him. Did I do something wrong?”
The question slipped out before I could stop it.
Jamison’s jaw clenched.
“For fuck’s sake, Sienna.”
I flinched.
He saw it. For one second, something moved across his face, but it vanished beneath irritation before I could understand it.
“I’m not here to walk you through seating arrangements,” he said. “Sit where your place card tells you to sit.”
I nodded too fast. “Okay.”
But I didn’t move.
Because there was still the kiss between us. Four nights where I had wondered if I had imagined how he held me. I needed to know if it mattered.
Even a little.
“Jamison,” I said softly.
His eyes flicked to mine.
“What now?”
“I thought things were better between us.”
“Better,” he said.